The door was closed. There was a note that said,"In the past two years,
I have written four suicide notes,
I never planned on letting a single pair of eyes,
besides mine,
see these lines,
because I'm petrified of the possibility of permanency
And I knew those notes were only just for me
I tried turning this transition into eloquence
But craftsmanship is nothing but a roadblock
And no better words can sum this up
Than in simplest form:
I don't want to die anymore.
And if that isn't beautiful enough
To be considered poetry
Then I don't know what is."
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